


hours in a semester

by EphemeralTheories



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cafe Leblanc, Futago Siblings, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Slash, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-29 15:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12633849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EphemeralTheories/pseuds/EphemeralTheories
Summary: Is it high school or college that is supposed to be the best years of one's life? Either way, four years at university is sure to be interesting enough.





	1. quid kids — kurusu and co.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to me projecting my university experiences onto fictional characters in the form of one-shots! ( Or, you know, taking sorta things that happened / are happening as I attend college and shoving Persona 5 characters into the mix. ) This could be a wild ride!
> 
> [Tweet](http://twitter.com/amgedpha) me, dudes. Let's be friends!

      Goro Akechi had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting his next door neighbors a few weeks ago. One, a frizzy haired film major called Akira Kurusu and his roommate, Makota Niijima, a girl studying criminal justice.

      Niijima looked remotely familiar. He thought they might have had a class or two together in their first year of university.

      But it’s Kurusu that stood outside his apartment door, awaiting entry. Akechi noticed how Futaba had taken a liking to Kurusu quickly, seeing as the two shared multiple interests.

      Despite finding himself equally stimulated by the things Futaba and Kurusu discussed, Akechi kept his comments to himself.

      Akechi open opened the door with little fanfare, a pleasant smile gracing his features as he greeted the man.

      “Ah, hello Kurusu.” Akechi said, “— How might I help you? I’m certain you know that Futaba is out at the moment.”

      “Ah, yeah —,” Kurusu responded, scratching the back of neck. The younger man rocked back on his heels, seemingly anxious. “I’m actually here to see you.”

      Akechi startled a bit at that, but opened the door the rest of the way, inviting Kurusu into the living space, sparsely furnished and tidy. He imagined it only remained that way because Futaba seemed to keep to herself when she was home. Part of Akechi was a bit proud of her for being out so often, having found like minded acquaintances in the Association for Computing Machinery.

      Akechi briefly recalled overhearing Kurusu referring to the organization as ‘Computer Nerd Club’ once, much to Futaba’s feigned chagrin. Yet, she had merely glared at the boy, the smallest of smiles pulling at her features.

      After Kurusu politely declined Akechi’s offer for a refreshment, the two sat adjacent to one another. Kurusu found solace on the sofa, elbows propped on his knees, gaze trained on Akechi who sat in a small armchair to his right.

      “What can I help you with?” Akechi asked.

      “I think you should join the Quidditch team,” Kurusu suggested without preamble, “here on campus.”

      “Pardon me?” Akechi responded, the subtle arch of his brow the only indicator that he’d been remotely caught off guard by Kurusu’s suggestion.

      The small smirk that pulled at Kurusu’s lips was enough evidence that he’d noticed. Kurusu leaned back where he sat then. Akechi supposed catching him unaware unwrought whatever unease approaching Akechi in a one on one situation wrought in Kurusu.

      “We’re called The Phantom Thieves,” Kurusu continued, as if Akechi hadn’t said anything, “ _Try Us Out Day_ is this Friday.”

      Akechi stifled a laugh, almost surprised at his own outburst, “The team name is The Phantom Thieves?”

      “Yes,” Kurusu said, smiling wider then, “and I’m recruiting you.”

      “I — um.” Akechi composed himself, forcing another pleasant smile to his features. “While I appreciate the invitation, I must graciously decline.”

      It simply seemed like an unnecessary commitment and it wasn’t as if Akechi found himself terribly familiar with the young adult / children’s fiction series of _Harry Potter_. There was truly no incentive to join, not when he could exercise on his own schedule without being forced into a group of others who would likely look down on someone who didn’t even care for the source material of which the sport was based.

      “Come on, Akechi,” Kurusu insisted,  “You’re definitely _keeper_ material.”

      “I’m,” Akechi paused, taken aback. “— I’m sorry?”

      “Oh, right,” Kurusu responded, a small laugh escaping his lips, “It’s a position on the team. Granted, you’re only an inch or so taller than me, but we could use a guy like you guarding the goals.”

      Akechi sighed. Clearly, Kurusu was convinced he could persuade Akechi to join this quidditch team he was a part of. He’d already considered what position Akechi would be suited for. Akechi didn’t know if he found sentiment borderline arrogant or endearing.

      Since Futaba seemed so fond of Kurusu, he decided to give the young man the benefit of the doubt.

      “Kurusu,” Akechi said, “what leads you to believe I would be interesting in joining in a club sports team?”

      Kurusu shrugged, a sheepish smile pulling at his features, “At least, consider it.”

      “Kurusu,” Akechi responded, his expression deadpan.

      “I’ll let you throw a dodgeball at my face,” Kurusu offered.

      Akechi nearly found himself laughing at the offer, the barest of smiles pulling at his lips, “A tempting offer,” he noted, “but I’m afraid I must decline.”

       Kurusu’s features morphed into something resembling a pout as he hung his head in mock defeat. After a moment, he shook his head, meeting Akechi’s gaze. All trace of joking or arrogance leaving his countenance. Akechi was struck with the thought that this was the most genuine he’d ever seen Kurusu in the time they’d known one another. “Look, I know I’m not your favorite person, but Futaba wants to join. I think it’d be good for you to come along.”

      Akechi cupped his chin in contemplation, “Did Futaba put you up to this?”

      “No,” Kurusu responded, “but I want to let her believe it was your idea.”

      “You —,” Akechi paused, folding his hands across his chest, “You seem quite invested in our relationship.”

      Kurusu shrugged, “She’s expressed interest in getting to know you better. I mean, you are her half-brother.”

      “Yes,” Akechi commented, “it was quite circumstantial that she and I ended up attending the same university. Her mother being a professor and my scholarship…” He trailed off, “Was it not Dr. Isshiki’s idea that Futaba branch out?”

      “It’s not like you two didn’t know each other before,” Kurusu commented.

      “Even in my youth, I believe I insisted she refuse visitation.” Akechi swallowed hard, having not anticipated discussing his relationship with Futaba when he first invited Kurusu in. “Considering Shido’s vices.”

      Akechi averted his gaze from Kurusu then. His peripheral caught the slight deflation of the other man’s demeanor.

      “Even then,” Kurusu said, “you were looking out for her. I think that’s why Isshiki-san was so open to having you two live together.”

      Akechi sighed, looking back to Kurusu whose lips tilted ever so slightly upwards.

      “Besides,” Kurusu continued, not missing a beat. “This guy she’s interested in — but she doesn’t really know it yet, is on the team. I figured _Big Brother Goro_ would want to vet the art major before his sister even considered dating.”

      Akechi felt the frown tugging at his lips before he even spoke, “It seems you act as a better sibling to Futaba than I do.”

      “Well,” Kurusu explained with a half-hearted smile, “she is like the little sister I never had.”

      Akechi tilted his head, forcing a smile to his lips, “Is that to imply that we are brothers?”

      “Hell no,” Kurusu quickly refuted but just as swiftly offered an alternative, “but who’s to say we can’t be friends?”

      Akechi did smile then, and for the first time in a while, his cheeks didn’t ache at the effort.

      He nodded and said, “I think I will pitch the idea to her, then.”

      Kurusu laughed, the gesture seemingly unprompted. 

      “What’s so funny?” Akechi asked.

      “Oh,” Kurusu explained, “that’s just what we call the field we play on.”


	2. content creators — akira and co.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what I'm doing, guys. Also, I'm sorry I can't write anything without it becoming shuake. Also, all of these one-shots will exist in the same universe! So, yep. This is same Goro and Akira from the first one-shot. ( They're on a first name basis now & that makes me so insanely giddy for some reason. )
> 
> Also, come talk college au garbage with me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/amgedpha). I promise I'm nice!

      “This is bullshit!” Ryuji Sakamoto exclaimed, collapsing into the booth opposite Goro Akechi. The blond forcefully discarded a paper on the table. Part of Goro was unsurprised to find that red ink rivaled the print. Akira Kurusu, his calm demeanor a soothing balm to the other man’s outburst, sat down alongside him.

      “Calm down, Ryuji,” Akira said, tone riding a precarious balance between supportive and commanding. Goro was always impressed with the young man’s tendency towards leadership positions. He supposed that was why Akira had been appointed captain of the Quidditch team, of which they were all members.

      “Fuck, I know,” Ryuji conceded,  “You’re right. Just — how she fucking dare dictate how she thinks my characters should speak? I pour my goddamn heart and soul out onto that paper and hell, I know how guys talk. I’m not gonna just spill my guts to fucking anyone — especially if it has to do with a girl. Even more so if that girl just killed herself.”

      “Yeah, but sending a  _calling card_  isn’t going to help,” Akira responded.

      Goro arched a brow at that particular development. Certainly, they weren’t referencing a video game of all things? ( Nevermind that it was one of his favorites. )

      “You’ve heard the others in our class,” Ryuji continued, “I’m not the only one who thinks she’s committing the grievous sin of pride.”

      Goro couldn’t quite conceal the way his form shook lightly as he held in a laugh.

      “We’re not Phantom Thieves, Ryuji,” Akira explained, “It’s not like we can really steal the source of her distorted desires and force her to confess her sins.”

      “I’ve seen what she’s written about your stuff, Akira,” Ryuji said, scowl evident, “— How the hell are you not pissed?”

      “I am. Believe me,” Akira responded.

Goro took the brief silence that followed as an opportunity to seize Ryuji’s paper and quickly scan its contents. His eyes widened at some of the admittedly, wildly biased commentary from who he could only assume was their instructor.

      He cleared his throat, returning the paper to where Ryuji had originally discarded it.

      “I feel as though we all have enough experience with inconsiderate adults to grin and bear it,” Goro offered, an albeit small, yet pleasant smile pulling at his features, “ — Is success not the best revenge?”

      He wasn’t too surprised that Ryuji ignored him, the blond intent on addressing what he considered the more pressing matter, Akira’s art.

      “If you change your goddamn style over what she says, I’ll never forgive you,” Ryuji threatened.

      Goro shook his head, an almost fond smile pulling at his features at Ryuji’s threat. Akira had explained to him more than once that the blond’s outbursts were generally from genuinely places.

      Certainly, it had taken a bit for Goro and Ryuji to get on the same page with the glaringly opposing ways they expressed themselves, but Goro found himself exceptionally pleased when Akira noted how well Ryuji and himself had begun to work together on pitch.

      Akira had also expressed his admiration of Goro for how he quickly defused a potential volatile situation between one of the university gym’s staff and Ryuji. That was not to mention how they were both equally impressed that Goro had filed a formal report that resulted in the staff member's dismissal.

      “Oh, I won’t.” Akira said in response to Ryuji’s threat, a smirk pulling at his lips. “But she’ll regret calling my last piece abstract. I wonder how she likes existentialism.”

      Ryuji laughed, the tension that made his posture a little stiff when he was worked up moments ago dissipating at Akira’s declaration.

      “So,” Goro interjected, “am I to take it that both of your works were met with harsh criticism?”

      “You could say so,” Akira confirmed with a shrug of his shoulders.

      “She honestly doesn’t know what the ‘eff she’s talking about.” Ryuji added.

      Goro shook his head, slight smile pulling at his lips. He was moments from returning his attention to the notes he’d taken from a lecture earlier that day when Akira addressed him.

      “So, how’s life on the criminal justice side of things?” Akira asked.

      “I would say equally trying but I’m not so much in the business of changing hearts as I am exposing them.” Goro answered, appearing pleasant as ever as he met Akira’s gaze.

      Akira was unamused, rolling his eyes at the the other man. “If you or Ryuji make one more reference to Persona 5, I’ll never speak to either of you again.”

      “A slip of the tongue, Akira,” Goro explained, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture, “Please do forgive me.”

      “So,” Ryuji said, “since this is your scene, give us some advice on how to expose her.”

      “You’re in a class for critique, so surely this Dr. Chouno….” Goro began, only to be interrupted by Akira.

      “Ms. Chouno,” Akira corrected.

      “You mean to imply that she doesn’t possess a PhD?” Goro asked, slightly startled by such a development.

      “Not to my knowledge,” Akira explained.

      “Wait,” Goro stated, pausing for a moment as he filed through what he’d learned about Akira in the few months they’d known each other, “didn’t your fiction writing professor in community college have a PhD, though?”

      “Yep,” Akira confirmed.

      “I am truly at a loss for words,” Goro said, hand rising to rest against his chin, brow furrowing in contemplation.

      “You and me both,” Akira agreed, raising his hands in mock surrender.

      “Yeah, like hell is she gonna give you the third degree about being abstract —,” Ryuji complained, “and she’s gonna get on me about breaking the rules?! Modernists were a thing. Just call us the new and improved. They’ll be naming a movement based on our style!”

      “As I said before,” Goro reiterated, “success is the best revenge.”

      “Ryuji,” Akira said, eyes narrowed at the blond, “you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do, are you?”

      Goro opened his mouth to ask what Akira meant when Ryuji responded.

      “Relax, man. I’m not that stupid.”

* * *

      Goro really shouldn’t have been surprised when he was met with Ryuji and Akira a few weeks later, the blond in a similar state of distress as he’d been the first time he’d received a critique. Judging by the conversation Akira and Ryuji were having as they entered the small cafe, it was easy to deduce that Ms. Chouno was once again responsible for Ryuji’s frustration.

      “Did you really think changing the names would really throw anyone off your case?” Akira asked, handing Ryuji’s assignment to Goro, allowing him a few moments to look it over before continuing, “Well, what do you think?”

      It was a near verbatim disclosure of the conversation they’d had at this very cafe only weeks ago. The only changes seemed to be inserting fake names in the place of their own.

      “Your tact —,” Goro paused, lips pressed in a thin line as he conjured a way to not to upset the other man more than strictly necessary, “was, in fact, lacking.”

      “At least mine was an extended metaphor, dude,” Ryuji explained.

      “In Ryuji’s defense,” Goro added, skimming a bit more of the assignment, equally marked up in red ink as the last one, “I do admire with what passion he addresses his concerns. Things cannot change if the silence between a sovereign and its people is not broken.”

      “More like a god and its subjects,” Ryuji suggested, “She probably sees the liberal arts building as a temple.”

      “Follow her rules or be damned, indeed,” Goro agreed, audibly wincing when he noticed the grade that Ryuji received.

      “What do you think her treasure would be — you know,” Ryuji said conspiratorially, “— her heart?”

      “So,” Akira said, running a hand through his hair, “one hundred hours of gameplay wasn’t enough for you?”

      “Does she have any published works?” Goro asked Ryuji, ignoring Akira’s complaints that they were once again referencing Persona 5. “My guess would be one of those — perhaps her first. It would have to be something she is quite proud of, if she does consider herself a god of sorts. Pride and vanity tend to go hand in hand.”

      “Her book,” Ryuji confirmed, “It’s her book. That’s gotta be it.”

      Akira shook his head at Goro and Ryuji’s exchange, though the smile pulling at his lips betrays any false ill will he might feel.

      “I should have never knocked on your door to explain why Ryuji would be slamming the door to my apartment three or four times.”

      “How unnecessarily cruel, Akira.” Goro responded, placing a hand against his chest in an effort to appear aghast, despite the grin pulling at his features, “I am wounded. If only Futaba was here to defend my honor.”

      “Don’t let your guard down, Akira,” Ryuji warned, “This is how his type operates. He’ll lure you into believing he’s weak and he’ll destroy you in a word.”

      “I think he likes me too much for that,” Akira responded, dismissing the comment.

      “You are insufferable, Kurusu,” Goro said, a smirk pulling at his lips.

      “No, no fair,” Akira protested immediately, “Do not go back to using my last name again.”

      “Kurusu,” Goro said, mock innocent lacing his tone, “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

      “Ugh, get a room, guys,” Ryuji complained, smile betraying his mock disgust.

      “Don’t give me ideas, Ryuji,” Akira responded, moving to slide closer to Goro.

      Goro sighed, burying his head in his hands, ignoring the flash of heat that rose to his face at Akira’s proximity. He was going to throttle Ryuji.

      “Oh, come on, babe,” Akira said then, throwing his arm around Goro, “Ryuji wants use to come out about our relationship.”

      Goro looked up from his hands, meeting Ryuji’s gaze and then Akira’s, deadpan in his response, “I truly look forward to the moment that I am able to dance upon your graves.”

      Akira’s grin grew devilish at that, “I’ll let you strangle me tonight.”

      Ryuji’s jaw hung agape. “Dude, no way you just said that.”

      “I don’t know what I expected,” Goro explained, head hanging low, mostly in attempt to hide the amused smile pulling at his features.

      Surely, Ryuji and Akira were insufferable at times, but he supposed there were worse friends he could have than a film major who found far too much fun in teasing him and a general studies student who threw himself headfirst into the things he cared about.


End file.
